History is usually written by the people who won, and for a long time, the winners in Medieval England were men with very fragile egos. When a woman took the reins—or even just reached for them—the chroniclers of the time didn't just call her "ambitious." They called her a "She-Wolf." It sounds cool now, like some sort of proto-feminist power move, but back then? It was a nasty slur meant to paint these women as unnatural, predatory, and basically "un-Christian."
The she wolves of England weren't some organized pack. They were individuals like Eleanor of Aquitaine and Isabella of France who realized that playing by the rules of 12th or 14th-century womanhood was a one-way ticket to being ignored, or worse, imprisoned.
Take Matilda. She’s technically the first. After her brother died in the White Ship disaster of 1120, her father, Henry I, made all his barons swear they’d support her as his heir. They did. They promised. Then, the second Henry died, they basically shrugged and said, "A woman? Really?" and invited her cousin Stephen to take the throne instead. What followed was a brutal civil war called The Anarchy. Matilda wasn't some soft-spoken victim; she was fierce, she was demanding, and she nearly took London before the locals chased her out because she wouldn't lower their taxes. She didn't get the crown for herself, but she made sure her son, Henry II, did. That’s the thing about these women. They were playing the long game.
The original She Wolves of England: Isabella and the Fall of a King
If you want to talk about the person who truly earned the "She-Wolf" nickname—at least in the eyes of later playwrights like Shakespeare—it’s Isabella of France. Honestly, her story is wilder than anything on HBO.
Married off to Edward II, she quickly realized her husband was... let’s say, distracted. Edward was obsessed with his "favorites," like Piers Gaveston and later Hugh Despenser. He gave them the jewelry, the land, and the power that should have been hers. Isabella was sidelined, humiliated, and eventually sent to France to negotiate a treaty. While she was there, she basically said "I'm done." She stayed in Paris, started an affair with a straying English baron named Roger Mortimer, and raised an army to invade her own husband’s country.
She won.
Think about that for a second. In 1326, a queen consort invaded England and successfully deposed the king. People liked her at first because Edward and Despenser were so hated, but power is a fickle thing. Once she and Mortimer were effectively running the country on behalf of her teenage son, Edward III, the "She-Wolf" label started sticking. She was eventually pushed aside by her own son in a dramatic midnight coup at Nottingham Castle, but she lived out her life in luxury. She wasn't some tragic figure. She was a survivor who knew exactly how to use the political machinery of Europe to her advantage.
Eleanor of Aquitaine and the art of the rebellion
You can't discuss the she wolves of England without Eleanor. She’s the GOAT of medieval queens. She was the Duchess of Aquitaine in her own right, which meant she owned more of France than the King of France did.
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She married Louis VII of France, went on a Crusade (literally riding to Jerusalem), got bored with him because he was "more monk than king," and got the marriage annulled. Within weeks, she married the future Henry II of England.
Their marriage was a power couple disaster.
Eleanor wasn't content to sit in a drafty castle embroidering. When her sons decided to rebel against their father, she didn't just give them a pep talk—she actively supported the revolt. Henry II ended up putting her under house arrest for sixteen years. Sixteen years! Most people would have withered away. Eleanor waited. The moment Henry died and her favorite son, Richard the Lionheart, took the throne, she was back. In her seventies, she was still crossing the Pyrenees and the Alps to arrange royal marriages and secure the empire.
She was "wolfish" because she refused to be a footnote in her husband's biography.
Why the "She-Wolf" label is actually a compliment today
The term "She-Wolf" was popularized by the poet Thomas Gray in the 18th century, specifically referring to Margaret of Anjou. Margaret was another heavy hitter. During the Wars of the Roses, her husband Henry VI had what we’d now call a total mental breakdown. He couldn't lead. He couldn't make decisions.
Margaret stepped up.
She led the Lancastrian cause, raised armies, and fought tooth and nail to keep her son’s inheritance alive. The Yorkist propaganda machine went into overdrive. They called her "The She-Wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France." They hated her because she did what a king was supposed to do, but she did it while being a woman.
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- They weren't "crazy." They were reacting to incompetent men.
- They weren't "evil." They were protecting their children’s rights.
- They weren't "unnatural." They were the only ones in the room with a plan.
It’s interesting how we view them now. Historians like Helen Castor, who wrote the definitive book She-Wolves, point out that these women were trying to exercise power in a system that literally had no space for them. There was no "Queen Regnant" rulebook yet. They had to invent it as they went, and usually, that meant being tougher and more ruthless than the guys across the table.
The reality of medieval power dynamics
We have this idea that medieval queens were just there for decoration. Not true. A queen was the "intercessor." Her job was to soften the king’s heart. If a king was going to execute some rebels, the queen would publicly beg for mercy, allowing the king to look strong but also merciful.
But the she wolves of England broke that mold. They didn't want to beg for mercy; they wanted to be the ones deciding who needed it.
This created a massive "identity crisis" for England. If a woman is the "Head of State," is she still a woman? In the 12th century, the answer was basically "No, she’s a monster." We see this reflected in the art and the writing of the time. They’re described with masculine traits—bravery, stoicism, tactical brilliance—but these are framed as flaws or "freakish" occurrences.
How to spot a "She-Wolf" in the archives
If you’re digging into this stuff yourself, you’ll notice a pattern in the primary sources. Writers like William of Malmesbury or the author of the Gesta Stephani use specific coded language.
Watch for words like "insolent," "unbending," or "virago."
A "virago" was a woman who possessed masculine virtues. To us, it sounds like a compliment. To a medieval monk? It was a sign of a disordered universe. When you see these words applied to Isabella or Matilda, you know you’re reading about a woman who was actually getting stuff done.
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It’s also worth looking at their seals. While most queens had seals showing them standing gracefully with a bird or a flower, the women who actually wielded power often chose imagery that emphasized their lineage and their right to rule. They weren't just "wife of," they were "daughter of" and "rightful heir to."
Moving beyond the myth
So, what do we actually do with this history?
First, stop thinking of these women as villains. They were politicians. If Edward I was "The Hammer of the Scots" for being a brutal conqueror, why is Isabella a "She-Wolf" for being a brutal conqueror? The double standard is baked into the very names we give them.
Secondly, realize that their "failures" were often just a lack of military backup. Matilda had the legal right to the throne, but she didn't have the standing army to hold London. Politics in the 1100s was 10% law and 90% "how many knights can you get in a field?"
Practical ways to explore this history today
- Read the primary sources (with a grain of salt). Look up the Chronicle of Lanercost or Froissart’s Chronicles. You’ll see the bias in real-time. It’s actually kind of funny how mad these guys were that a woman was winning.
- Visit the sites. If you’re ever in England, go to Castle Acre Priory or Castle Rising. Castle Rising is where Isabella spent her later years. It’s not a prison; it’s a palatial fortress. She lived like a boss until the end.
- Check out modern scholarship. Helen Castor’s work is the gold standard here. She strips away the Shakespearean drama and looks at the actual administrative records. Turns out, these women were great at paperwork and logistics—the boring stuff that actually wins wars.
- Look for the gaps. When a chronicle suddenly stops talking about a queen’s influence, ask why. Usually, it’s because she was doing something effective that the writer didn't want to record.
The she wolves of England didn't hate men, and they didn't hate England. They just hated being told "no" by people who were less competent than they were. By reclaiming the term, we aren't just doing "revisionist history." We're finally telling the whole story. These weren't wolves because they were bloodthirsty; they were wolves because they refused to be sheep.
To really understand the shift in English power, compare the reign of Matilda to the reign of Elizabeth I. It took four hundred years for the "She-Wolf" energy to be accepted as "The Golden Age." The difference wasn't the women; it was the world around them finally catching up to the idea that a crown fits a head regardless of how the hair is styled.